


fata morgana

by badend (cogito)



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Instability, Enabling behaviour, Existential Crises, IMPLICATIONS OF SELF HARM, M/M, Sharp Objects, body horror., psychological bullshit, self-hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 14:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17061698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cogito/pseuds/badend
Summary: a story about erbluhen's visits to apostasia in the void.





	fata morgana

**Author's Note:**

> there are two doors with two guards. only one door leads to freedom, and the other the dark abyss of the void. one guard always tells the truth, and the other always lies. but which one lies, and which one tells the truth?

1.

When did it become routine for them to be like this?

Apostasia doesn’t remember Erbluhen’s first visit or his second, or even his third. By the fourth visit, it was enough to be exactly what Erbluhen had quoted Arme Thaumaturgy saying it was, a routine. Apostasia knows the word, of course, but he didn’t understand the implications. What was it? an insult? A statement? An opinion?

Or a judgement?

But Arme was hardly worth thinking about, because Arme never visited, to begin with.

On the fourth visit, Erbluhen Emotion brought him some flowers. They were beautiful white flowers in full bloom at their peak. Erbluhen called them “lilies,” and Apostasia committed their beauty and name to memory.

“You don’t have flowers in the void, do you?” Erbluhen asked, and Apostasia shook his head at the question. There was nothing in the void, that’s why it was the void.

“Do you like them?” He asked again, pulling out a flower from the bunch. Then he reached up to tangle it with Apostasia’s hair, tying it into a braid.

“They’re nice. I do.” Apostasia replied quietly and his eyes flickered upwards to meet Erbluhen’s gaze. The flower was still in his hair, and if there were a breeze, it may have tugged gently at it.

Erbluhen’s smile brought a kind light into his dark corner of the void.

“Then I will leave these with you,” Erbluhen gently pushed the flowers into Apostasia’s arms. “And bring something else next time. Is there anything you want?”

Apostasia shook his head. “I don’t want anything. You don’t have to bring me anything next time.”

“What kind of guest would I be if I didn’t bring you anything at all?”

He laughed away the topic and they moved on to something else.

 

 

2

On the next visit, Erbluhen brings him chocolate. It’s not the first time Apostasia’s seen chocolate, but Erbluhen doesn’t seem surprised when Apostasia names the chocolate by name when he was surprised when he knew anything else about human creations.

Instead, he laughs and asks if there was a particular kind of chocolate Apostasia favours.

The question earns him a confused look. “Chocolate is chocolate.”

“Did someone bring you chocolate before me?” Erbluhen asks instead, unwrapping the delicate and fancy looking box of chocolates. Apostasia tries to look through the memories he has, but the faint image of a boy with an airy laugh and messy grey hair spotted with green is quickly fading from his mind. He shakes his head.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“Hm, do you remember anything about chocolate then?” Erbluhen asks, holding out the box of chocolates towards Apostasia. Each of them has little designs on them in the shape of… Apostasia squints.

“They’re human organs,” Erbluhen supplies, “I thought it was unique, compared to ducks and bunny rabbits, but if you don’t like them, I’ll bring them back and exchange them.”

“No, they’re fine.” Apostasia stares at the amount of detail that seems to have gone into just one. “Chocolates are… sweet, aren’t they?” The ones in Erbluhen’s box, with all their tiny little details, look expensive. They’re too expensive to be wasted on the likes on him.

“Mhm, usually. Not always, though.” He nods, “I’ll feed you, say Aaah.”

“Aaah.” Apostasia intones.

Erbluhen laughs again, “No no, you gotta open your mouth more. Like you’re screaming.“

“Aaah?” Apostasia tries again, and Erbluhen, through giggling fits, puts the heart-shaped chocolate in his mouth.

Chocolates were usually supposed to be sweet, Apostasia recalls Erbluhen saying, but not always. This must be the one that was bitter.

“How is it?”

“It’s bitter.”

“Do you want to try another one?”

Apostasia shakes his head slowly, maybe he’ll eat them later on his own time.

When he does get around to eating the rest of them, liver and lungs and eyes, the rest of the chocolates in the box remain bitter. The aftertaste is unpleasant in his mouth. 

 

3.

 

The next time he visited, Erbluhen Emotion brought him some other flowers as promised. The ones that sat in his hands were not blooming lilies but brilliant, peach coloured roses.

Even the void could not melt his memories of pricking his fingers on the thorns, not even the void could forget the splendour of their beauty. So when he reached out to touch them, he expected them to prick his fingers, but they don’t.

He stared confusedly at Erbluhen, then at the roses. There were no thorns; The stalks had been expertly cut.

Erbluhen secured one of Apostasia’s hands around the bouquet. "The lilies I brought you were white, but it’s boring to not have colour in here, isn’t it?”

He had never had a particular preference for colour. Anything that wasn’t black was nice, but it wasn’t something he felt the need to speak up about. Erbluhen’s thoughtfulness was appreciated, still.

"I’ll leave these with you so you have something else to look at instead of just the gloomy darkness.”

Apostasia thought that they would just be eaten by the void later, but Erbluhen pushed the bouquet into Apostasia’s hands and interrupted those thoughts. The warm-coloured flowers all crowded up in his face, and only when he finally accepted them did Erbluhen finally let go for them. He counted them slowly.

“Nine… ten… eleven…?” He trailed off.

“The humans say there is meaning in their flowers and numbers… Roses especially.” The answer was cryptic, and Apostasia understood Erbluhen wanted him to guess their meaning.

Apostasia stared down the eleven roses in his hand. “Thank you.“

He expected to hear some kind of acknowledgement back to indicate that Erbluhen heard him, but Erbluhen said something else instead.

Erbluhen spoke with the serene smile he always wore.. "As long as I live, I’ll make sure there’s always colour in the void for you.”

As Apostasia tried to process the meaning of those words and to find something beyond ‘thank you’ that would sound natural in this setting, Erbluhen interrupted him one final time.

“I will never let you be lonely in here.”

 

4.

He’s still picking off the petals off the dead roses when Erbluhen Emotion sneaks into the void. Apostasia notices him anyway.

He looks like he has something tucked behind his back. Apostasia looks up from his dead roses and tries to peek at what Erbluhen is hiding. Oh, wait, that’s rude. He brings his head back, and then back to work at dismantling the dead roses.

“Oh, are those the roses from last time?” Erbluhen asks, and Apostasia thinks for a minute and slowly nods. He’s pretty sure they’re the ones from last time, at least, he thinks so.

“They’re dead, give them here. I’ll throw them out.”

He doesn’t want to, but Erbluhen asked and he can’t turn down such a request. The roses may be dead, but they still retain some degree of colour. He stands up and tries to push the rose petals on the floor into a bundle when Erbluhen stops him.

“Actually, it’s okay, leave it for later. I have something else more important.”

Erbluhen pulls out the bouquet from his back and Apostasia recognizes that these are roses as well, but colours he’s never seen before.

He can’t help himself. “Do roses not turn black when they die?”

“Dead roses don’t turn black when they die,“ Erbluhen explains, placing his hand over Apostasia’s gently. Apostasia finds it odd that the light doesn’t reflect off his eyes.

The roses in his hands are blue and black, like the veins running through his arms and as the glow of Henir. Like home, they feel familiar and in a strange way, almost comforting. Erbluhen passes them over and reaches for his hands, securing them in Apostasia’s grip. The thorns dig into his fingers, but they don’t bleed. It hurts, but they just make tiny, pin-shaped indents.

"You don’t have to worry about these ones dying,” Erbluhen explains, leaning into the side of his cheek and in the crook of his neck from behind him, slowly letting go of his hands and the bouquet.

Erbluhen secures his hands around Apostasia’s waist and leans into him so close it feels like the two are glued together. He reaches out, fingers dainty settling around the petal of one of the roses like he plans to pluck it out.

“These ones are fake, after all.”

Fake roses never die, Apostasia understands. As promised, there will always be some sort of colour in the void. Erbluhen Emotion makes good of his promises.

He doesn’t pluck out the petal, but Apostasia notices the new black nail polish. Erbluhen does not move away, and instead, his hair nuzzles against Apostasia’s neck and chin.

 

5\. 

This time, Erbluhen Emotion came by himself with no gifts in his hands.

He dusted himself off and found a place to sit. “Sorry, I couldn’t think of anything you’d like.“

It wasn’t the gifts that made Apostasia feel a bit less lonely. Apostasia didn’t care.

"I thought we could just spend time together.” Erbluhen pat the floor beside him.

Apostasia accepted the invitation and sat down beside Erbluhen as he took great care not to accidentally have Apostasia sit on his own hair. He pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned against Erbluhen’s chest. The other began to run his fingers through Apostasia’s hair, smoothing out any tangles with gentle strokes.

“If you’re not feeling good about something, talking about it helps you two understand each other..” He heard Erbluhen mumble. This chest rumbled, and his heartbeat was full of life. Apostasia nodded slowly to indicate he had heard it.

Apostasia didn’t understand feelings or what it means to have them, but he wanted to understand Erbluhen Emotion.

After a moment or two, though time never really passes properly in the void, Erbluhen Emotion asked if Apostasia knew about the blinking eyes all over his legs. Apostasia jolted out of his relaxed position immediately, tore Erbluhen’s hand from his hair with the motion, and started forward with all eyes open.

For a second, the whole of the void was focused on one pinpoint spot.

Erbluhen’s expression melted back to its usual peacefulness. “I’m not alarmed by it.” He spoke calmly, “Does it hurt having those eyes all over your body?”

Apostasia shook his head. “You’re not… afraid?”

“I would never be afraid of you.”

Reluctantly, Apostasia leaned back into Erbluhen’s side and they sit like that for a while. When Erbluhen did not move, Apostasia sat himself up and was about to ask if something was wrong, but soft shallow breathing filled his ears. Erbluhen must have fallen asleep at some point.

Like this, Erbluhen Emotion looked even more beautiful than he did when he was awake.

 

6\. 

There are two hands covering his eyes, and the soft and playful, “Guess who?” come from behind him.

“Erbluhen.”

“Right you are. As a reward…” Erbluhen presents him with another bouquet of pink flowers. These aren’t roses, and he doesn’t recognize these at all.

“They’re snapdragons. One of the florists I went to recommended this to me.” Erbluhen answers, “I thought you’d be sick of roses and big flowers at this point.”

He hardly understands being sick of something he never sees, but the colour of the flowers are nice and vibrant. He rubs their petals between his fingers as if the pink might burn into his too-pale skin. Meanwhile, Erbluhen has begun to thread his fingers through Apostasia’s hair again, separating strands and braiding them together.

“Your hair is always so soft,” Erbluhen Emotion says, running a comb through it, “Even when you were Wanderer.”

His vision flickers.

There is a scratchy vision of a boy with a hood, and Apostasia blinks to find it missing again.

“Erbluhen… Did you say something?”

“No?” Erbluhen replies, looking up from the braid he’s made. “I haven’t said anything yet.”

Erbluhen would never lie to him.

Once the braid is finished, Erbluhen worms into his lap, looking up from his knees and reaching up to boop his nose. “It might be my last visit in a while.”

He should have figured this routine had a time limit.

“.. Don’t make that face, it’s only temporary.”

He doesn’t want to ask ‘how long’.

“It’s just that things are getting somewhat chaotic,” Erbluhen explains tiredly, “Arme and I can handle it together, but if I leave him alone Elrios might be in a bad spot. You know how he is.”

“… Do you want me to come?”

Erbluhen chuckles and Apostasia’s chest tightens again. “No, no, it’s okay. If he sees you he might try to kill you, and then we wouldn’t have our moments like these.”

A minute or two passes, and Apostasia asks, “You’ll come back?”

As usual, Erbluhen replies almost instantly, “I’ll come back as soon as I can. I won’t leave you. I promise.”

“Okay.” Apostasia says. He realizes that might have been too quiet, so he repeats it, “Okay.”

Erbluhen Emotion lets his hand drop back down, and his eyes close like he’s about to take a nap. The black nail polish passes through his line of sight.

 

Before long, the snapdragons wilt and die like all living things. He scoots over to their tiny vase to pull them out and idly turns the stalk upside down out of curiosity.

Maybe he’s hallucinating, or maybe it’s just how nature works, but tiny eyes peek out of tiny skulls and stare back at him.

He throws the stalk behind him and leaves it there to be forgotten.

 

7.

He found Erbluhen standing there with a metal contraption on three legs, tinkering with a lever that was sticking out. Once he saw Apostasia, he detached the top part of the contraption and yelled out, “Smile!”

Naturally, Apostasia made no such motion.

He just looked at Erbluhen Emotion as usual, and a flash so bright Apostasia actually had to take a step back went off. When he recovered, Erbluhen was waving around a white piece of paper and beckoned him closer.

Erbluhen Emotion showed him the contraption first. “It’s a polaroid! It’s a new type of technology the humans have developed. It takes pictures.”

The picture he took, however, came out all black except for the borders. Erbluhen’s excitement fell, and he stared at it, confused. Apostasia called his name, and Erbluhen nodded at being called. “Is it su-”

“No, it’s not supposed to be like that.” Erbluhen looked somewhat flustered for once in his life, with his face lighting up warmer than usual. “I thought about how it might be affected by the lack of light…” He signed the picture with 'Apostasia’ and tucked it into an envelope and finally in his pocket where it disappeared.

"Why bring a polaroid here?”

“I wanted to make some memories of you.” He handed Apostasia another small envelope, “The pictures that are taken by a polaroid don’t ever disappear, so I wanted to remember you this way and tell everyone you exist here, even if they can’t come visit.”

“But it doesn’t work.” Apostasia reminded him, and watched Erbluhen’s face at being called out. Dejection was apparent, but Erbluhen soon bounced back to normal. He accepted the envelope of pictures and flipped through a few that were taken. Words were written on the back to indicate who was in it.

“No, it doesn’t. Unfortunately.” Erbluhen mumbled, shoulders slumping. “It was just wishful thinking, I guess… I thought it might be nice to have pictures to accompany the you I have in my memories.”

The pictures Erbluhen had handed over were of different cities he had visited outside the void. There were beautiful green forests and sandy yellow desserts. The red roofs of buildings and the ocean intersecting beaches peered out from behind the figures in the portraits.

The vibrant red of Elsword’s hair and personality still somehow overflowed from the pictures Erbluhen had taken.

Apostasia asked quietly. “… Is it okay to borrow these for a little bit?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll come back for them the next time I visit, is that okay?”

Apostasia nodded, but his attention was more directed to the photos in his hands.

“Do you want me to stay while you look at them?”

With some reluctance, Apostasia shook his head. “You said the polaroid isn’t working…?”

Erbluhen took the cue. “Then I’ll have it fixed for next time too, so we can take pictures together.”

After Erbluhen had left, Apostasia retreated to a tiny corner of the void that attempted to retain the light that came from outside. The pictures that Erbluhen had handed him weren’t very numerous, but he had forgotten there was a world out there.

“Elsword,” Apostasia whispered, running a finger over the boy’s face in the picture. He looked older and taller compared to the wizard from when they were still adventuring together. Was he doing well?

He supposed if Erbluhen was looking after him, he must have been doing okay.

The picture at the base of the stack stunned him.

There were three people in the last photo. Although all three had grey hair, they all had widely different expressions. The one in the center, with green highlights, had his arms around the other two and was grinning. The one on his left wore an annoyed expression, and the one on his right wore a large hood that obscured almost all of his face and wore bandages and shied away like a curse of shame had been cast on him.

He knew who they were. He knew all three that were in the photo. The void knew, as well, because it was pulling the memories away from him.

The individuals in the photos were disappearing and recognizing that the void was attempting to do, Apostasia tried to hang on to their names, their identities, anything that would have indicated they once existed.

Despite his efforts, only one remained in the photo. Even he wavered until Apostasia was able to hang on to the name.

“… Anpassen.”

 

8.

“Pick a card, any card!” Erbluhen chimes at him from underneath the brim of a tall white hat.

From the random spread of cards in Erbluhen’s hand, he drew one at random. He’s about to flip it over to show Erbluhen when Erbluhen shakes his head no. “Keep it to yourself. Remember it, and then put it back in with its back facing. Don’t show me.”

With a twinkle in his eye, Erbluhen does something with his hands and the cards. It’s all kind of a fast blur anyway, and Apostasia doesn’t try to keep up with his movements. In the meantime, Erbluhen explains that because not all humans have magic, they developed something like this which is also called magic.

“Is this your card?” Erbluhen Emotion shows him the nine of spades. Apostasia nods and then says nothing else.

Erbluhen realizes his joke and trick has flopped, and then he breaks out into a laugh. “Sorry, I’m still practicing. I thought I’d pick it up to entertain while we’re all waiting around for plans.” He shuffles the cards, “I guess I’m not very good, huh?”

A delayed moment later, Apostasia begins to clap. The gesture catches Erbluhen off-guard, and a soft pink tinges his cheeks. Erbluhen closes his hands around Apostasia’s. “Save it for next time, when I really catch you off guard and surprise you for good.”

Apostasia doubts it will happen.

“The human magicians have developed a way to get birds out of hats… I’ll figure out how to do that one someday.” Erbluhen shuffles the deck again, trying to get them to bridge. “I wanted to practice and show you, but I didn’t know what the void would do to a living life that could sense pain.”

Slowly, Apostasia nods. Erbluhen caring for life was to be expected. Besides, having a bird fly in their face when someone was doing tame tricks would have been surprising for anyone.

In that sense, though, Erbluhen is like a bird. He’s white and angelic and surprises him all the time. He can’t be kept in a cage like the void. He thinks, maybe, like how some humans are obsessed and in 'love’ with freedom, he may be in 'love’ with the idea of Erbluhen Emotion.

Just the idea? No, that’s not right.

He watches Erbluhen Emotion trying to do a card flourish and flops horribly. Periodically, he gives Apostasia a smile when their eyes have locked.

Maybe he’s in love with the person.

Angels and celestials were always more ideas and concepts than humans, but the way Erbluhen Emotion behaves and cares makes him seem more human than an angel to Apostasia anyway.

 

9.

There are scattered pieces of paper in an area he doesn’t frequent, in the corner of the void that tries to retain the light before it gets inevitably swallowed up by the void. He bends down to pick them up, not realizing what they are, then he turns them over. They're all still blank.

What are these pieces of paper doing here? With a shrug, Apostasia picks up the rest of them and gathers them into a bundle, looking for something to put them in. When he finds the paper envelope that these should be in, he begin to remember. There are tiny, faint figures where the pictures had been empty.

His face clenches up, and wet droplets drip onto the photographs.

Apostasia wipes his eyes, but the tears keep coming. He’s crying and he can’t remember the last time he’s cried. His tears sting his cheeks and seep into the cuts where the void peeks through on his face.

“Apostasia?”

Oh no, oh no oh no.

“Don’t look at me,” Apostasia hiccups, covering his face with his hands, “Please just go.”

Erbluhen’s hand is on his head, ruffling his hair. “Are you crying?” He squats down to Apostasia height so their eyes match, and pulls Apostasia’s hands away from his face. The redness of his eyes must look terrible with his green and paleness, Apostasia imagines.

Erbluhen opens his arms for a hug, and Apostasia doesn’t know how he found himself there.

“The photos, your memories, they-”

“Shh,” Erbluhen mumbles, stroking his head again, “I can always make more.”

“I know they were important to you but I still-”

“Shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Apostasia’s hiccups die in his throat. Erbluhen’s arms have always been comforting and like home. When he’s calmed down a bit, he shuffles himself a bit and makes some space for Erbluhen. His voice almost a hoarse whisper, Apostasia confesses, “I’m losing my memories.”

Erbluhen’s arms around him feel tight and secure, suddenly he was Lofty Wanderer again.

“Ishmael turned her back on you, and cast you into the void. It’s not fair. She knew it would be difficult to hold on to anything without her light and still made you do it.” Erbluhen’s voice is strangely dissonance with his comforting tone.

The words Erbluhen says sound like a death sentence, even more so than the one he was given when he was sent here. "If you are here, then Ishmael must have never loved you.“

Apostasia feels himself shaking, clearly trying to pull himself out so he can curl into a ball and maybe out of existence. He tries to will words that don’t come, and the tears have started up again.

Erbluhen starts to stroke his head again. Apostasia feels himself unwind, the shaking stops, just a tad. Some of the shadows underneath them start to retreat back into the walls. "But I love you, more than Ishmael ever did or will. I won’t ever abandon you.”

“It’s a good thing you were abandoned, though,” he adds after a minute after Apostasia has stopped shaking, “If Ishmael never abandoned you, we would never have these moments together, right?”

To have Erbluhen to himself in the void where no one could disturb them, it would be a lie to say he wasn’t completely okay with it.

 

10.

He can’t stop thinking about Ishmael ever since Erbluhen mentioned her.

All he thinks about is her face, her voice, and her light, even though he can’t remember any of those things anymore. Here in the void, where none of those things reach or might ever reach- He’s stuck here and she’s out there where Erbluhen is.

The whole of the void shakes with him in coordination with his anger and hatred. It vibrates in some rhythm that might have been his heartbeat if he still had it. The image of Arme Thaumaturgy floats through his head.

He is everything Ishmael could ever want. She wanted a puppet, and she got him.

If she asked him to kill someone, he would do it. If she asked him to behead himself, he would do it. Did that apply to himself, or even Erbluhen? If he dared step foot in this void, Apostasia would destroy him and tear him to shreds.

Someone so holy and pure, it would be good to corrupt him and drag him down to earth, to tear his wings from his back and ask him if the goddess saw him now. He wants to, with the whole void behind him, hauling him to earth and then to hell and then to nothing couldn’t be impossible.

Erbluhen calls out his name and runs up to meet him.

“You’re bleeding,” Erbluhen mumbles, unwrapping a bandage to plaster where Apostasia’s nails had dug into his flesh. “Be careful, okay?”

With what he says next, it’s like Erbluhen can read his mind. “I won’t ask you to get along with Arme, but it would be nice if the two of you wouldn’t try to kill each other every time you meet.” Erbluhen plays with his hair and tries to make a mustache. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to kill Ishmael’s shepherd, even if you could.”

Apostasia asks, “Would you hate me for it if I tried?”

Without missing a beat, “No. I don’t think it’s a good idea, but I won’t stop you or hate you for it.”

Apostasia deflates with the burden released from his shoulders. The sudden tiredness in his body is kind of surprising, but he’s too tired to fight against it. Erbluhen lets go of his hair and reach for his hand, trying to tug him back onto his lap. “You should rest for a bit, you’re using a lot of energy.”

Apostasia looks up at him, “You aren’t scared I’ll unravel or lose control.”

"No,” Erbluhen kisses the back of his wrist, “I’ll never be afraid of you.”

When Apostasia finally gives in to the urge to close his eyes, Erbluhen kisses his forehead, “Good night. I’ll see you when you wake up.”

Softly, Apostasia whispers back, “Good night,” into a place where it is always night.

 

11.

Erbluhen Emotion asks him if the void is supposed to be empty.

Apostasia replies that yes, the void supposed to be empty.

Erlubhen continues and asks him if being empty means something is supposed to have colour.

Apostasia doesn’t know where the string of questions is leading. “I don’t know. All colour in existence will be swallowed by the void in due time, at the end.”

“Huh,” Erbluhen doesn’t sound like he’s particularly satisfied with the answer. Instead, he presses down on Apostasia’s wrist and leans into his face.

“If the void is supposed to be some sort of creeping terror, then what does that make you?”

Apostasia can’t process the meaning of those words. Erbluhen’s tone sounds so completely foreign and different and invasive from his usual self.

“The void doesn’t think. The void doesn’t have a physical form, so why are you here? Why does a space like this exist?”

Something knocks on the inside of his skull, wanting out. He needs to give Erbluhen an answer, but like the void, it’s empty. Why does Erbluhen want to know? Why did it matter now when it’s never mattered before?

The void starts to pulse. His head starts to pound. When Erbluhen Emotion says nothing but continues to only smile at him, Apostasia chokes out a command for him to leave. Erbluhen either doesn’t hear it or pretends he doesn’t, so Apostasia repeats it. “Please. Leave the void before I accidentally hurt you.”

“You would never hurt me, right?”

He’s never felt the void this upset before. Everything in his soul is telling him that whoever is caught inside this internal tempest won’t get out alive. He tries to contain it, tries to calm every single consciousness that may be in the fabric of the void, but nothing comes of it. When he tries again, the void balks at his commands.

He blacks out.

He wakes up sometime later and notices that the fake black and blue roses and what was left of the box of chocolate have been moved from their usual spot. Erbluhen Emotion is gone, but Apostasia only hopes he got out alive so he could see him again.

 

12.

He didn’t know how Erbluhen Emotion survived the last storm, but he did. Erbluhen stood in their usual meeting place, waiting for him.

Erbluhen Emotion asked, “Can I ask you a few more questions?”

Apostasia wanted to say no, but seeing Erbluhen Emotion and thinking about making him upset by being rejected was enough to make him change his mind. He didn’t respond, but Erbluhen picked up the hint.

Erbluhen took one of his hands, and folded his thumb in on itself. “Can the void stop existing?”

Apostasia replied, “No, the void is eternal.”

The pointer finger. “Is the void ever present?”

“The void will always exist forever.”

His middle finger. “Is the void the end of all things?”

With finality, Apostasia replied. "The void is the end.”

His ring finger. “Are you the beginning or the end, or eternal?”

Apostasia shook his head, “I don’t know.”

He let go of Apostasia’s hand, and Apostasia brought it back in front of his face, staring at his outstretched pinky. Erbluhen asked. “Is death eternal?

"Death is meaningless to the void.” Apostasia put his pinky down.

Erbluhen took a moment to ask another question. Apostasia didn’t look up when he heard it. “Are you afraid to die?”

Was he? Apostasia didn’t know. He certainly wasn’t afraid of the end if that’s what Erbluhen was asking him about. It was a meaningless question.

Erbluhen reads his mind: “If death is as meaningless as you might think it as it might be worth it to test your hypothesis to find some answers.”

The implication behind the words clicked, Apostasia looked up, but Erbluhen was no longer standing there. Where he had stood, there was a projected weapon. Black rays radiated from its surface, which was as slick and black as the void. As Apostasia reached out to pick it up, Erbluhen’s promise of 'answers’ echoed in his mind.

He felt Erbluhen’s hands over his, freezing cold. Erbluhen’s shoulders bumped against his as he turned the blade towards himself.

The void from inside him exploded like a balloon, but nothing hurt. The shock of the impact made his legs unravel, and the rest of his body began to shake and tremor, the parts of his stomach where the blade had touched cracked like shattered glass. Shadows spilled from every broken or cracked wall, and gravity pulled him to the ground, but it was Erbluhen’s hands that directed him onto a soft lap.

“Why don’t you rest? I promise I’ll tell you everything when you wake up.”

He looked up through half-lidded eyes, Erbluhen’s eyes are dark like his, no longer capturing the light he once thought radiant.

 

13.

When he opens his eyes again after who knows how long, Erbluhen Emotion wears a panicked expression in front of him that Apostasia has never seen him wear.

Erbluhen becomes larger and large in his field of vision until Apostasia sees nothing but the shoes on his feet. He rolls over onto his back, staring face-up where he sees the panicked expression raw with pain.

The other speaks, but he can’t distinguish the words. Erbluhen places a hand on his stomach, securing the charred knife in his stomach, and Apostasia hears him sigh and sees his shoulders slump.

His hands untangle Apostasia’s fingers away from the weapon in his stomach. He doesn’t know what Erbluhen Emotion is freaking out over, because the wound doesn’t hurt, and his fingers and stomach aren’t bleeding. So what is Erbluhen freaking out about? Wasn’t he the one that told him to do it in the first place? They’re supposed to talk about it when he wakes up, aren’t they?

Erbluhen said there would be some answers, but he doesn’t think he’s received any answers from stabbing himself. Instead, there were more questions, and he was honestly hoping Erbluhen would be able to tell him what he was supposed to take away from it.

The whole thing felt meaningless.

His eyes avoid Erbluhen’s gaze and fall upon the area directly above Erbluhen instead where a black space in the void, nothing but darkness, occasionally flickers with the outlines of what might be an eye. The darkness almost mocks the stars of the night sky outside.

He thought maybe he heard Erbluhen calling his name?

But it could have been the usual, just the void calling for his tattered soul.

 

14.

The next time his eyes opened he realized he was resting on Erbluhen Emotion’s lap. He looked up into soft green eyes. Erbluhen’s hair fell just over his cheeks, and his eyes caught the blue glow of Henir’s faint light. Both of his hands cradled Apostasia’s cheeks and his expression was calm and warm.

“I won’t go anywhere,” Erbluhen Emotion promises as he watches Apostasia open his eyes. “I won’t ever abandon you.”

Apostasia’s hand rests over his stomach, where the wound regenerated itself. The void that was inside him spins itself back into shape slowly like untangling yarn. Briefly, Apostasia wondered if Erbluhen’s offer applied to the end of the world when the void will inevitably return the world to nothing.

Would Erbluhen stay with him then?

**Author's Note:**

> \- all my thanks to @dezimaton and blake for beta reading!  
> \- all tense alternations are intentional. i’m bad at english but i’m not that bad.  
> \- both like and unlike the answer to the two doors, two guards riddle, the answer is both as simple and complex as you think.
> 
> lilies = devotion and humility, also used for funerals.  
> pink roses = appreciation, “thank you”, grace, perfect happiness, admiration, gentleness, “please believe me”  
> black roses = death, farewell  
> blue roses = the unattainable, the impossible  
> snapdragon = snapdragons are said to represent both deception (perhaps tied to the notion of concealment) and graciousness.
> 
> in some readings of poker cards, the nine of spades indicates insecurity and guilt. the meanings seem to change depending on who is doing the reading, so take that as you will.  
> at the end of this, i’d like to hear your thoughts on interpreting this fic, feel free to send me an ask or a tumblr message ;)
> 
> i love psychological bullshittery  
> originally posted march 1st, 2018.  
> you can find my tumblr here: http://bad-end.tumblr.com/


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